Friday, August 17, 2018

The Mystical Mundane

Twenty-two years ago today, we awoke in separate beds, in separate houses.  It was a bright, Texas summer day, a high of almost 99 degrees.  We were young, barely adults, giddy, stressed, but oblivious.  Neither of us really knew what we were getting into, other than each other’s arms and hearts.  We didn’t dwell much on the fact that much more would be blended and formed in the days and years to come.  Surrounded by friends and family, we vowed, exchanged, laughed, cried and danced.  We came together in ways both mystical and mundane that day.

And we still do.

Dirty dishes and diapers.
Building bonds and breaking barriers.
Late night tears and early morning prayers.
Homework and housework, yard work and heart work.
Raised voices and hushed whispers.
Bills, pills, spills and thrills.

All of it, my love,

every drop,
every stop,
every hug,
every shrug,
every rout,
every doubt,
every trip,
every flip,
every no,
every blow,
every yes,
every mess.

In the mystical mundane, I love your heart, your soul, your mind.

I am yours for all time.